


drift in saline highs

by gabriphales



Series: gomens drabble hell [49]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, az kinda dies but hes only discorporated so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24789412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: aziraphale falls ill with the plague. crowley's determined to look after him. (he really hates the fourteenth century)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: gomens drabble hell [49]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664713
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	drift in saline highs

**Author's Note:**

> hi w/ covid-19 going on i wanted to be clear this fic is in no way referencing that or making light/romanticizing the suffering sick ppl go thru. wash ur hands if u can and stay safe pls

it was only to be expected. what with his stupid, martyr-like way of sneaking into the most infected corners of villages. consoling the sick on their deathbeds, and washing his miracles dry healing those he still could. now that he's got nothing left of his angelic abilities, with no bonus amount from gabriel in sight, he's reduced to accepting his current state. weak, wilting quietly in his chambers. blood on his pillows that he'd eventually given up keeping clean, and a bucket to catch any vomit that follows. 

at least crowley can be some form of company. at least he's _here_ \- he can't say the same for the folks upstairs. they haven't even checked in on him. for all the worrying aziraphale does about being watched, listened to at all times, crowley's starting to think nobody does any sort of celestial observing at all. if they did, maybe someone would see that aziraphale is quite clearly _dying_ down here. not in a permanent sense, but still. with naught a single friend besides his beloved demon at his side.

he changes the towel over aziraphale's forehead. it's gone cold, mostly damp at this point. replacing it instead with a fresh, hot one. aziraphale sighs comfortably, nestling into the weight of it. how it grounds him from the neck down, his whole body soothed to some extent.

"how are you feeling?" crowley asks. he already knows the real answer, but he wants to hear something reassuring from aziraphale before he has to go.

"just peachy." aziraphale laughs. it's a crumbled, faint sound. "i'm afraid you'll have to forgive me. heaven can be rather slow when it comes to giving out new bodies."

"can't they just fix this one?" crowley whines, feeling all the more foolish for it. he's acting like a child, seeking out comfort from the very person he ought to be comforting. it's ridiculous. 

but aziraphale smiles at him, and despite the traces of bile and blood that still linger on his chin, he looks happy. happy just to see crowley, to talk to him.

"i'll think about it." he mutters. that's that, then. nothing more to be said.

still, crowley can't seem to keep quiet.

"are you scared?" he says. he isn't sure if he's talking to himself or aziraphale. there's a tremor in his voice he doesn't bother with shadowing.

"no, are you?"

he looks away from aziraphale. it's too much to bear admitting such a shame while he can still see his face. "maybe."

aziraphale rolls on his side, extending his arms as well as he can. "then come here. let me hold you, i'll take care of it."

crowley bristles. "but i'll - "

"you won't get sick. i used the last of my miracles to ensure you wouldn't."

something heavy drops in the background. a stack of books left precariously tilting for too long, perhaps. but crowley doesn't hear it. he only hears what aziraphale has told him, and a water-like consistency filling his ears. flooding throughout all his senses. he's drowning on it. drowning, with no recourse.

"i don't... i don't understand. why wouldn't you - "

aziraphale interrupts him. "i was going to heal myself, yes. but then you came along, getting all close to me, crowding me until i knew there'd be no hope of you not catching it. and so i... just wanted to make sure. simple as that, really."

crowley's breath jams in his throat. he makes an awful, ugly sound. "then it's my fault?"

"oh no, nono, i made the choice myself, you see. it was all up to me. now - "

he tucks the blankets up, revealing his shaking frame. crowley's chest wrenches on a sob at the sight, but he manages to contain himself.

"are you going to join me? i don't have all day."

and crowley knows what he means by that, but he has to pretend he doesn't. he nuzzles in beside aziraphale, a little awkwardly at first. frightened, stilted. but aziraphale's arms curl around him, and they're still warm enough to shelter his fears, so everything's alright. everything will be alright for now. he listens to aziraphale's labored breathing, focuses on the puffs of air that waft over his neck. that's the only sign he has that things are still okay. that he won't just start combusting any moment now. aziraphale grips onto him just the slightest bit tighter.

when evening falls, the breathing stops. only then does crowley let himself cry. though there's a dozen similar weepings spread across the town, many would remember - and live to tell the tale - of the screams that sounded just a little more _wretched_ than the rest.


End file.
